


hold me closer, tiny dancer

by sexyrevolutionaries (whenthesunhasset)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background E/R, Fluff, M/M, courf's smitten, jehan's a dancer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 08:56:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenthesunhasset/pseuds/sexyrevolutionaries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Grantaire has a hot dancer roommate, Courfeyrac's in love, and Jehan's hip movements are not helping Courfeyrac's already questionable sanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold me closer, tiny dancer

“Come on, Courf. I’ll repay you in sexual favors—“

A throat clears.

“I’ll repay you in booze! And coffee!” Grantaire amends, his eyes pleading with his friend.

“So let me get this straight. You want me to spend my Friday night at your roommate, who _I’ve never even met,_ at his dance recital? I could be getting laid, R!” Courfeyrac exclaims, but he’s grinning, and Grantaire knows he’s in.

“Basically, yeah,” Grantaire says with a shrug, his smile matching the other man’s. “We can get drunk and stupid afterwards.”

“Fine, fine. But I’m only in it for the booze. And the sexy outfits. But mostly the booze.”

 

xxx

 

“Why did I agree to this?”

“Courfeyrac, stop pouting.”

“But, Grantaire! Sex! That I could be having!”

“You’re such a horndog. And later. Now, shut up, it’s starting.”

Courfeyrac licks at the hand that Grantaire’s slapped across his mouth to ensure his silence as the first dancers come on. It earns him a glare and a smack to the back of the head, but Courfeyrac’s attention is already elsewhere. They are seated a few rows from the front, with a good view of the stage, something Courfeyrac finds himself very, very happy for. The music starts, and the dancers on stage begin their routine, twirling elegantly across the stage before the music transitions into something more upbeat and jazzy.

The first song ends, and Courfeyrac has not moved; it doesn’t look like he’s even blinked. His eyes are fixed on the small man in sinfully tight clothing who is moving towards center stage. A French braid keeps the man’s strawberry blonde hair in place, and the way his hips move as the music starts up again cannot be legal.

“ _Who is he who is that Grantaire please tell me you know him oh my god._ ” It’s all said in one breath, quiet and in Grantaire’s ear. One glance at Courfeyrac’s awestruck face has the artist choking back laughter. The glare Courfeyrac sends his way means significantly less than it ought to, what with the way he can’t even focus on his laughing friend for more than a few seconds before the dancer onstage demands his attention again.

After a few seconds, Grantaire has stopped his silent laughter long enough to follow Courfeyrac’s gaze, smirking when he discovers the object of his new-found obsession _(“It’s not an obsession, he’s just perfect, okay, you’re one to talk R”)._ “The strawberry blonde one?” Courfeyrac nods, looking a bit like a bobblehead with the intensity of it. “That’s Jehan. My roommate.”

“You live with him? Why have I never met him? Can you introduce me? Please? I’ll blow you—actually, I won’t, Enjolras would gut me, and I’d much rather bl—okay, anyways, please introduce me? How is he even real oh my god.” It comes to his attention that he is rambling, but it takes Grantiare’s hand being slapped over his mouth once again to shut him up.

A smug smirk is the only indication that Grantaire even heard him, and Courfeyrac thankfully manages to stay silent for the rest of the recital, his gaze only leaving the beautiful boy— _Jehan_ , his name is Jehan—when it ends and Grantaire is tugging him out off the auditorium with a long-suffering sigh which is probably deserved.

 

xxx

 

Three days later, Courfeyrac still has not met Grantaire’s mysterious roommate, nor has he been able to shut up about him.

His friends are less than pleased.

Really, they should be thanking him. It’s probably better than his constant and in-depth descriptions of his various conquests.

Instead of the thanks he deserves, Courfeyrac has been subjected to more than his usual share of smacks to the back of the head these past few days, and, really, it probably explains a lot.

It all changes that morning. It starts the same way Courfeyrac’s Monday mornings usually do—too much caffeine too early in the morning with Combferre and Enjolras. Somehow, Courfeyrac has managed to convince them to take a detour on the way to class through the park. This would be surprising, as the other two normally do not encourage Courfeyrac’s random ideas, but. Well. They’re early this morning, and Combferre and Enjolras were too engrossed in some philosophical discussion to notice that Courfeyrac was leading them away from their normal path.

They do notice when Courfeyrac drops his cup of coffee and makes some ungodly squeaking noise that he’ll deny later.

“That’s him.”

Enjolras sighs. Combferre full-on facepalms. Neither of them has to ask who ‘him’ is.

Before them is a group of people forming a circle around a boombox blasting some obscene hip-hop song. In the center of the circle is a certain strawberry blonde both of them have heard far too much about the past few days. Courfeyrac can’t tear his eyes away, once again. He’s convinced he’s staring at an angel—no, no, an angel wouldn’t be moving like that. A demon, then. Courfeyrac’s own personal demon.

The song ends and the group starts to split up, the small audience they had gathered clapping. Jehan turns to walk away when someone runs into him. Literally.

Courfeyrac curses Combferre to every deity he can think of as he waves awkwardly at the man of his dreams (literally. He’s starred in every. Single. Dream. Since Friday night) who he was just unceremoniously shoved into.

“Hello. Nice dancing. I’m Courfeyrac.” His words are choppy and he sounds out of breath. Courfeyrac considers hitting his head against the tree next to him.

“Thanks. I’m Jean, but everyone calls me Jehan,” the other man says, smiling softly and shaking the hand offered to him.

Courfeyrac melts. Physical contact was not a good idea. “I know.” It comes out of his mouth before he can stop himself, and this time he actually does hit his head against the tree. “Ow! Dammit! I just—I mean, I know Grantaire. And I was at your recital Friday. You were good then, too.”

Jehan laughs, and it sounds like bells. “Oh? So you’re the Courfeyrac he’s mentioned?” he asks, and Courfeyrac nods. “Well, in that case, here,” he grabs Courfeyrac’s arm, and really, it’s just not natural for him of all people to be blushing at this. A sharpie is produced from somewhere and Jehan writes something on Courfeyrac’s arm. A glance shows ten digits. “Text me some time. I’d love to learn more about the infamous Courf.” ‘The infamous Courf’ feels faint.

Just then, Enjolras and Combferre appear, the former grabbing Courfeyrac’s arm and pulling him away. Combferre smiles apologetically at Jehan. “We have to get to class,” he explains, before following after Courfeyrac and Enjolras.

 

xxx

 

 **Jehan:** You know, when you said you’d set me up with that cute guy from your boyfriend’s social justice thing, he really wasn’t what I was expecting.

 **R:** it worked? :D

 **Jehan:** C;

**Author's Note:**

> oh god.  
> so.  
> tiny dancer came on the radio and this happened.  
> this literally has nothing to do with the song except jehan is an actual tiny dancer  
> also this is the first les mis fic i've ever written ever so if it sucks i apologize


End file.
